TNA Scent of the Dying
by 1985laurie
Summary: Gambit finds himself involved in a bizzare and dangerous case, risking his life to stop a kidnapping - just another day at the office for the Department's finest. Part 5 up now.  R&R if you like!
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I really should be updating other fics, but I wrote this little ditty this afternoon while waiting for Timeless A-Peel to update Anew – this should provide me with an adequate Gambit fix for now...Enjoy!

The first thing that hit Mike Gambit was sheer confusion. His right eye was sealed shut, almost impossible to open at all. His left eye, although open, was bleary and he was unable to focus. The sheer confusion stemmed from the fact that he'd had two fully functioning eyes just a few minutes ago. He was certain of it. Another cause for concern was the amount of foliage that had suddenly appeared around him.

The Range Rover didn't have a garden...well, not last he'd checked. It also seemed to be raining inside the aforementioned vehicle. Not something which happened everyday. A second look revealed that the windscreen was missing and the front end of the car had wrapped itself partly either side of a rather large, solid-looking oak tree. No mean feat considering the size of the lump under the bonnet.

From his position, the tree looked to still be in pretty good condition, all things considered. Although, it had seemed to be listing dangerously at first, Gambit figured the bump on his head was causing it to do so. He was at a momentary loss, and couldn't for the life of him think what had happened, other than his driving prowess failing spectacularly.

At some point during the journey, he'd obviously crashed. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to work that one out. He tried to adjust the interior mirror to get a better look at his right eye and groaned as his right shoulder and ribs screamed at him. Now he remembered why he gave up motor racing. Crashing was never fun and he usually came off worse than the car. Using the repositioned mirror and the hazy dusk light streaming through the undergrowth outside, he could see that left side of his face was caked in blood from a gash just above his eyebrow that was sure to require stitches. Hopefully that was the root cause of his eye problem and not something more sinister.

There was no time to catalogue the injury however, as the stench of smoke from the ruined engine dislodged something in the back of his mind, sending a sense of urgency to the rest of him. An all too familiar urgency. _Running._ That's what he'd been doing, he was sure of it. He'd been running before the unplanned rendezvous with the oak tree. There was nothing wrong with his hearing and he could hear his radio-come-emergency black box beeping steadily, sending out a distress signal to Steed and Purdey. He couldn't recall turning it on though, which bothered him immensely.

A brief flash of lights far off in the distance signalled the approach of another car and Gambit didn't particularly want to wait around to find out who was pursuing him. He knew from experience that the visual disorientation from his concussion would wear off soon enough but there was no time to wait. He quickly snaked his left hand down to unfasten his seatbelt, wincing as the movement pulled on his sore ribs and shoulder. He wasn't about to curse the belt that had obviously stopped him from bursting through the windscreen, but he couldn't help wishing that there were different safety measures available to come to the same ends. One thing was for certain, he wouldn't be crashing into any trees again for a while. It hurt too damned much.

Surprisingly, the driver's door was easy to open considering the mangled mess of the Range Rover, giving it's battered occupant a speedy exit, much to his uncooperative legs' dismay. He landed hard on his knees in the slippery mud, choking the pain back with an array of colourful expletives. In his new position it was hard to miss that the wheels of the Range Rover were shot to bits and several new bullet-shaped holes adorned the vehicle's bodywork.

A brief flash of memory came back to him, of himself tugging at the steering wheel as someone shot at the car from the nearby trees. He wondered how far back that was, trying to calculate how long it would be before the hidden marksman came to finish him off. Almost in answer to his question, the noise of an engine got steadily closer. As much as his body protested, Gambit knew he had to move to stay alive. He was too out in the open, ironically since he'd managed to hit the only tree within a twenty yard radius. There was no shortage of wiry bush and undergrowth, but not a lot of tree cover. A few bushes were unlikely to be strong enough cover from the weapon his pursuer had been using. Besides, if he hid in a bush that close to his crumpled car, he deserved to get shot at.

He spotted another large oak tree and set about crawling towards it. Besides the fact that he was well hidden by keeping low, he was certain that if he tried to stand, he'd be listing like a drunk in the wind. The tree line he was aiming for was already spinning uncontrollably due to the nasty knock on the head he'd received in the crash and he didn't trust his legs to carry him far. He hoped to God that the light was fading enough to keep him hidden and give him enough time to eliminate his attacker. As he clumsily propped himself against the nearest tree and pulled out his gun, the lights of the vehicle swept over the clearing.

Gambit shakily aimed his gun at the general direction of the clearing, ready to shoot his pursuer before they took advantage of his sorry state. He was definitely in no shape for hand to hand combat, and that would be painfully obvious once they got a look at him. He wasn't even sure that he'd be able to hit anyone at this range, with his right hand side out of action, poor light and with only one good eye, which was currently broadcasting everything in treble. Things were not looking good. Thrice.

He squinted as he heard a car door slam. He squeezed the trigger as slightly as he could, to save that half a millisecond in firing, before he blearily made out the slender silhouette of Purdey. Or rather, three identical silhouettes of Purdey racing over to his battered car. Purdey in triplicate. On any other day he'd be in heaven. Releasing his hold of the trigger, along with a deep breath of relief, he called out to her. "Purdey!" Her head whipped around, seeking out the familiar voice and she jogged over to him, frowning as she got closer.

"You've made a terrible mess of that tree back there. Hopefully it has suitable Liverpool Victoria cover." she stated, crouching beside him and raising an eyebrow when he planted a hand on her shoulder to pull himself up. She was finding it hard to remember the last time she'd seen Mike Gambit looking quite so...rumpled. Along with the right side of his face, both the collar of his suit jacket and his shirt were also covered in blood.

"Well, it just jumped out in front of me," he replied, allowing her to take his weight as he stood. Her easy demeanour almost reassured him that he didn't look as bad as he felt. "Don't worry, I'll be sure to take down its insurance details for the releve-" A movement in the trees a few yards away caught his eye, along with the glint of a weapon. "Down!" he cried, heeding his own advice and dropping back down to his knees whilst awkwardly bringing his own gun up to fire.

He shot three times, one for each of the figures dancing in his line of sight. At least one of the bullets struck home and the man fell, spraying the tree line above their heads with loose gunfire of his own. When it stopped, Purdey leapt to her feet, running over to the fallen attacker as fast as she could over the slippery terrain. She kicked away his gun, pulled his arms behind his back and leant heavily on him, getting a slight groan in response.

The bullet had caught him in the shoulder. Her ears pricked with the sound of a car engine and she smiled. Steed's car gave off an unmistakeable growl and he was more than welcome to join them, especially with Gambit in the condition he was. Purdey gave a quick glance over her shoulder, frowning as she observed her almost motionless partner. Despite his light joking a few minutes ago, he was obviously in some serious pain. Something must have happened at the mansion, his cover had to have been blown for him to run. She should have guessed from the bullet holes in the side of the Range Rover that he had been chased. Her unflappable nature had been flapped when she saw his car and all thoughts of his pursuer had been cast aside, especially when she saw the amount of blood on him as he slouched against the tree. She diligently kept an eye on the surrounding tree line, vowing not to make the same mistake twice. If anyone so much as peeked at them through the bushes, they would have a nasty encounter with the pointy end of a gun.

She was glad when Steed joined her as it meant that she could get out of the mud and check back on Gambit. He had sunk back into his awkward position of using the tree to keep him prone. Without it, he would almost certainly be laying down completely on the sodden ground. "I suppose you'll need a lift home?" Purdey asked, casually dropping down to his level as he attempted to wipe the blood from his right eye. The rain that had helped it seep further down his once white shirt collar had done little to actually clear it from his eye. Prodding at the liquid only seemed to make it worse.

His eyes stinging, he let his head fall back against the tree trunk and he winced. "I wouldn't say no to that," he admitted, squeezing his eyes shut as Purdey helped him up for the second time and they started towards her car. Whatever damaged the crash had inflicted on his shoulder and ribs had been magnified tenfold after his rather ungraceful second landing. Hearing another another set of squelching footsteps nearby, he cracked open his good eye to take a look. Almost immediately the horizon flipped and Gambit stumbled awkwardly into his crutch, almost ending up back in the mud. Luckily, Steed was there to catch his fall. Unluckily, he caught the falling agent by his bad shoulder which garnered a sharp cry from the poor man.

"Oh dear. Well, I have to admit, I'd rather hoped you'd fared a little better from that crash." Steed announced, repositioning himself against the injured party, loosening his grip considerably.

"You and I both." Gambit replied through gritted teeth. For some inexplicable reason, the distance to the parked vehicles seemed to have tripled along with his perception of them. The rain wasn't helping them progress much either in the barren field, patches of sticky mud thwarted them on every other step.

"As you're very much aware, we've come an extraordinarily long way in establishing Zephyr's range of operation," Steed continued as they slipped their way over to Purdey's MG, "What on earth did you find to make you run like that?"

Gambit closed his good eye, trying desperately to recall what had him spooked enough to blow his cover and run. Nothing seemed to spring out of the darkness and he clenched his jaw, annoyed with himself and yet not really knowing why. For all they knew, he could have been simply running an errand for the gang. Unlikely, considering the rather large bullet holes adorning the driver's side of his vehicle. "I, uh...I'll need to come back to you on that I'm afraid. Once my head clears..."

Steed sensed the younger man's frustration at being unable to remember and quickly moved on. It would come back to him eventually and they were doing no one any good by pressing him for an answer now. "Still, it would be a shame to cut short the investigation over a setback such as this..." he waved his hand towards Gambit's mud covered Range Rover.

"A damned shame." Gambit reluctantly agreed, knowing that there would, no doubt, be a point to Steed's open musings. The cogs were turning in the old grey matter. They needed to salvage something from the operation. Zephyr had one less man, two if he counted Gambit running as a blow to the gang. It would seem more of an accomplishment if Gambit could only remember how many men there were in the gang to start off with...four, five? An answer was in there somewhere, past the fuzziness and just out of reach.

"We've only got a few hours before the big visit. It's a shame we have no clue as to how they plan the kidnapping. A substantial part of the gang is behind bars thanks to our earlier intervention, but they're still one step ahead of us at every juncture. Still, I can't help thinking that we could use this," the older man continued, discontentment tingeing every word. "Turn it to our advantage somehow."

"We could treat it as an opportunity." Purdey added instantly. "To get some more of Zephyr's people to come to us, so we can apprehend and identify them. Gambit obviously struck a nerve somewhere. They won't want him reporting back to headquarters with names and faces so close to their deadline."

"Yes. I like it. We're relying on them to kill him off, finish the job so to speak." Steed announced. "If we want to weaken his crew further we need to catch them in the act."

"...of killing me off?" Gambit asked, trying desperately to keep up. The plan wasn't sounding too promising so far. He hoped it was just the fog from the knock on his head that made it sound like Steed had a long-serving desire to get rid of him.

"They obviously plan to eliminate you before you talk. We can lay a trap at the hospital for the next man they send." Steed explained, "you won't be there of course."

"Of course." Gambit repeated, relieved. He really didn't fancy being the bait for his own assassination attempt. That sort of business had it's disadvantages, many of which involved getting filled with unnecessary holes.

"We'll use your new friend in your place. I'm sure Zephyr will also be keen to keep him from talking to the authorities on such an important night," Steed added as they stopped and regarded the mystery gunman impounded on the back seat of the Jaguar. "I'll report in to the department that you're being taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital. Which leaves you to make your own arrangements to clean yourself up from here, but I'm afraid you won't be able to return home. That's the first place they'll come looking for you if your cover has been blown. We'll put our mystery man in your place at the hospital, the second place they'll look, which means I'll have to make the necessary arrangements, and that could take half the night in itself..." he stopped to regard the younger man. "I'd really rather you weren't alone, not in your current state...we need you for extra security at the embassy at eleven." Steed looked the younger agent up and down, trying not to pull a face at his shocking appearance. "I'm not sure that the local Dry-cleaning service covers minor first aid..." he trailed off.

"It's okay, Steed. Gambit can stay with me and get cleaned up." Purdey relented, taking the mammoth hint. "Not one word!" she added, putting her finger to Gambit's lips as they curled into the shadow of a smile.

He knew better than to comment. The thought that Steed might abandon him on Dr. Kendrick's doorstep when they returned to the City had already occurred to him. His eyesight was slowly improving. He could just about focus on Purdey's car without it moving of its own accord. A stiff drink at Purdeys was bound restore his mind. He was relying on it. The thought that he had already let down the team on such an important task was weighing heavily on his battered ego.

"We'll rendezvous at headquarters in three hours," Steed said, watching carefully as Gambit slowly climbed into Purdey's car, pain and fatigue etched on his features. The last thing on Steed's mind was putting his agent through unnecessary suffering, but this was, as Purdey rightly said, an opportunity to get back in the game. A little girl's life was at stake. Besides, Gambit was an experienced agent, and he knew the risks more than most. A few hours of care with Purdey watching over him would be better for him than any stuffy hospital. "On second thought, I'll come to you," Steed added, remembering who he was leaving each of the agents with.

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

It was barely forty minutes later when Mike Gambit found himself taking temporary refuge in Purdey's basement flat. The owner was currently showering to wash the mud from her hair in the next room. Gambit was in no position to let his mind wander however, as he had set about the task of stitching himself up one-handed in front of the dressing table mirror in Purdey's living room.

He was sitting on a plush pillow and using a needle from Purdey's very own sewing kit. She had even been as helpful as to switch on the flashy lights, making him even more aware of his ghastly appearance. At least the blood was now washed from his face, which was more than could be said for his shirt and jacket. They would require something short of a miracle to de-stain. Plus, there was still a substantial amount of mud on his boots. He hoped the French Presidential family weren't a fussy bunch.

He sipped at the drink Purdey had fixed for him. He had purposefully not asked what particular spirits it contained. He could just about make out the vodka somewhere in it. He took a large swig and bit back a cough. It burned his throat and he swore he could feel it spreading into his chest and lungs. Still, it seemed to clear his head, whatever was in it.

Gambit pulled through the last temporary stitch, dropping the needle in the bowl of boiling water in front of him. A crude attempt of sterilisation. He took a step back to admire his handiwork and grimaced. It would have to do for now, and it was a vast improvement on when he'd stumbled down the twenty-one steps into the basement flat only half an hour ago. His vision had returned to within a semblance of normal. His hands were steady as a rock, which was now evident through the seven straight stitches running just shy of his eyebrow. He could just about think clearly again.

Something was bound to trigger a memory of the gang sooner rather than later, and Gambit content to try and relax while waiting for that to happen, rather than will it on. That only left the issue of the broken bones and bruises which he had carefully sought not to disturb. Still, Kendrick's _could_ give him a clean bill of health in the morning. Gambit wasn't about to kid himself though. He was well aware of the difference between breaks and fractures, lacerations and grazes, twists and stresses, stretches and tears. This was going to keep him from fieldwork for a few weeks after tonight. He snapped off the lights around the mirror in disgust of the thought of desk-work for a month and sunk to the floor with his back against the wall.

Purdey had clearly seen through his ruse of only being bruised, but had kindly not brought it up, probably due to the fact that he was obviously not at death's door just yet. He had waited for her to shower before he gave himself the complete once over. Three definite bruised ribs on his right side. Two very sore shins, unmarked but painful. One slight concussion, leaving a constant ache in his head the vodka based drink had yet to touch. His chest was tight, and the muscles in his back had most probably been torn by the seatbelt restraint in the crash meaning there was moderate discomfort all round when breathing. Still, all those injuries were quite common from his racing days and most definitely not life threatening.

One break that he hadn't come across before was the one along his collarbone which he'd initially blamed on his shoulder. The swelling and ruminant bruising, however, indicated that the pain emanating from his shoulder was merely reactive whenever he tried to move his right arm and was actually coming from the bone running from neck to shoulder. Hence the reason he had tried to keep one arm draped across his stomach while stitching himself up, which in itself was giving him a case of pins and needles in his hand. Still, nothing was worth the discomfort experienced when attempting to raise his right arm. He was so close to passing out from the pain when Steed had saved him from falling flat on his face back at the crash site, it beggared belief. He contemplated asking Purdey to rig him up a sling. It would be the only way to prevent moving what was surely a broken collarbone.

Gambit unfurled his legs and slowly stood, not quite trusting his head just yet. Satisfied when the room stayed as it was, without spinning, he gathered up the makeshift first aid kit and placed it on Purdey's dining table. He yawned deeply and settled into a chair next to the glowing electric fire that had been set up to dry off his suit jacket. A few minutes sleep, that's what he needed. The Presidential family were driving into London at eleven forty-five. They had less than two and a half hours to either find out how Zephyr planned to take their only daughter, or provide enough security to ensure that it was impossible for him to do so.

Gambit was silently musing over the number of chairs really necessary in a single occupancy flat when he heard the sound of a hair-dryer starting up in the next room. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a few minutes of sitting in the darkness alone to collect his thoughts. Outside, the rain was persistent and pattered against the windows in a rhythmically soothing beat. It opened up a part of his foggy memory. Gambit thought back to where he had started the week, in Zephyr's hideout, deep in the Hertfordshire countryside. He remembered that he had first woken up to the sound of an army of birds singing and it had actually annoyed him immensely. There was only one bird allowed to wake him up in the morning...well, of the feathered variety anyhow. From routine, he enjoyed being woken up by the surging morning London rush hour traffic and his neighbours slamming their front doors as they left for their daily commute. He tried to think about how he'd been woken that particular morning, but his memory came up blank, frustrating him immensely. He found it hard to believe that he could have lost a week of his life through one bump on the head. He finished his drink and drummed his fingers on the empty glass, racking his brain for any clues as to how Zephyr planned the Presidential family kidnapping. Or how his cover had been blown...

From the darkness, a new noise caused Gambit to stiffen, immediately alert and tense. He pushed out the sound of the hair-dryer in the bedroom and the rain outside, and tried to identify the third noise that had him on edge. It took a millisecond for him to realise it was the sound of the front door being slowly opened close by to his right. The scraping of the lock oddly muffled by the rain. Wasting no time, he silently twisted on his chair and raised his left leg, swiftly booting the perpetrator fully in the back as he entered the darkened flat. The surprised man collided with the door, knocking himself out on the frame. A gun fell from his hand and Gambit felt the guilt he'd previously held, for attacking before identifying him, vanish completely. Whoever he was, he wasn't dropping by just to check on his health and he obviously wasn't a friend of Purdey's. The hair-dryer snapped off in the other room as Gambit checked beyond the front door for more would be assassins. He was aware that they rarely travelled in pairs in Zephyr's small gang, but he'd had just about enough surprises for one day.

Purdey, fully refreshed and clean clothed couldn't help but gape as she re-entered her living room and flicked on the lights. As Gambit backed cautiously into the flat, the unconscious man's gun grasped tightly in his left hand, she startled him by stating "Gambit, there's an unconscious man by my front door." There was no surprise in the statement, just a hint of annoyance.

"It's not a man," Gambit replied, gingerly kneeling beside the intruder and turning out his pockets, "Purdey, I've been extremely busy while you've been pruning to perfection in there. I took the liberty of stitching myself up _and_ I found time to make you this rather fashionable draught excluder. Don't worry, you can thank me later." He found some loose coins and a couple of pound notes, a tin full of cigarettes and a box of matches. Nothing to identify the man or where he came from. It wasn't rocket science, and even in his inebriated state, Gambit knew who the unconscious man worked for.

He glanced up at his Partner who was watching with a look of unmasked disgust on her face. She was irked that Zephyr apparently knew where she lived. Gambit carefully turned the intruder over, keeping his right arm tucked closely against his ribs as they protested against the large man's weight. It crossed his mind that maybe they could be a little more than just bruised and he grimaced at the thought. Seeing his obvious discomfort, Purdey used a well-placed foot to assist, as though touching the man with her hands would increase her chances of contracting some sort of viral disease.

The familiar face triggered something in Gambit's subconscious and he pulled open the prone man's shirt to reveal a large key attached to a neck chain. Purdey observed with interest as her partner pulled the chain off and tucked it into his trouser pocket. It obviously meant something to him. She cleared her throat and he briefly glanced up at her before continuing with his frisking of the unconscious man. "Am I to take it he's one of Zephyr's men?" she asked, watching as he pulled a larger set of car keys from the man's inside pocket.

"Yes. One of the top brass." Gambit replied, dragging himself to his feet and peering through the net curtains that covered the door. "He'll be alone."

"How could they possibly have known you were here?"

"Steed would have had to call it in," Gambit replied, thoughtful, "which means someone in the department knew I was here..."

"So we _do_ have a leak." There was the annoyed tone again.

"Someone with something to gain from Zephyr's racketeering." Gambit looked to Purdey and frowned. "Someone I obviously recognised."

"Obviously." Purdey gathered from the way Gambit was chewing on his bottom lip that he couldn't recall who that department leak might be. "Then we should call Steed, fill him in." she suggested.

"But how can we, Purdey?" Gambit replied, his eyes flashing as they met hers, "we've just been killed. I think this could be the opportunity we were waiting for." He shrugged on his damp suit jacket, making a futile attempt to brush off a large patch of partly-dried mud.

Purdey frowned, "I'm afraid I'm not quite following."

"They knew we were here – Steed had to inform someone at the Department about our little switch at the hospital. Now, as far as they know, we've just been eliminated from the bigger picture."

"So we should call Steed and warn him." Purdey said. "Tell him that his plan failed."

Gambit simply shook his head in reply. "There's a leak in the Department – and we can't afford to lose the element of surprise." Gambit dangled the would-be assassin's car keys under Purdey's nose. He had a dangerous glint in his eye. "Fancy a drive to the country?"

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for the late update. Real life keeps getting in the way. Anyway, on with the show!

"I'm not sure that this is such a good idea." Purdey admitted, glancing across at her grimacing passenger. "We should at least try and get a message to Steed."

Gambit didn't respond right away. He couldn't. Each bump in the road was agony on his ribs. Every gear change was jostling his shoulder. The squeak of the windscreen wipers intermittently clearing the rain was grating on his nerves and giving him even more of a headache. He was cold, damp and the car heater only seemed to be blowing out lukewarm air. Somewhere on his side of the car, there was a badly repaired rust hole that was letting in an unholy draught.

He refocussed. Or at least tried his best to focus. Everything Purdey was saying was the 100 per cent right. They should get a message to Steed. And driving right into the enemy camp was most definitely not such a good idea, even if they were driving an enemy vehicle. "Here – pull over." he said, spotting a phone box.

Purdey pulled the Audi onto the side of the road with far more haste than Gambit had hoped for. As the tyres squeaked against the waterlogged road, his seatbelt bit into his injured ribs and he was unable to bite back a groan.

To her credit, it was an accident and Purdey curtly apologised before jumping out of the car to ring Steed. By the time she returned, Gambit was busying himself by checking the chamber in his gun. He already knew it was fully loaded, he just needed something – anything – to keep his mind on what they were about to do.

"What did Steed say then?" he enquired, struggling to keep his tone casual.

"That we should wait here," Purdey replied, switching off the ignition. "He's on his way now – shouldn't be more than twenty minutes or so." She used her sleeve to wipe the drivers side window which was quickly steaming up.

"Purdey."

She froze, mid-wipe and turned back to her passenger.

Gambit was giving her a reprehensible look. "You're a terrible liar."

"Nonsense," she replied, turning the key and starting the Audi back up. "I was just testing you – making sure that knock on the head didn't do you more damage than I originally thought."

"So, what did Steed really say?" Gambit asked. He had found a flat cap in one of the door pockets and was trying it on for size.

"I don't know, he wasn't there." Purdey admitted, pulling into a side road to utilise a short cut. "I expect he's dropped by my flat, in which case he's probably wondering why on earth I've got a man gagged and handcuffed to my lavatory cistern."

"That depends on how virtuous he really thinks you are," Gambit chuckled and added as a second thought, "Maybe we should have left a note." He turned to his driver, the hat pulled down low over his eyes. "How do I look?"

Purdey stole a quick look and shook her head. "Like a man in a hat."

Gambit sighed, "Look, I know you think this is a bad idea-"

"Catastrophically bad." Purdey chipped in, keeping her eyes on the road. "Actually, you know what you look like? A man in a hat ready to walk into the lion's lair with nothing but his wits about him. Or half of them, anyhow. Gambit, we don't know what we're looking for or how we intend to look for it." It was rare for Purdey to raise her voice in anger, but the frustration at her partner could not be contained.

"I do appreciate you coming. I couldn't do it alone, you know." Gambit said in a sullen tone. "Well, you could have downright refused to drive – and I would have _had_ to come alone."

"Gambit, you just said yourself – you couldn't do it alone." Purdey admonished, stealing another look at the agent. Something was obviously bothering him. He was rambling.

"But that doesn't mean I wouldn't have tried." he admitted. "I know I'm not in the best shape to be storming any enemy lines..."

"It hadn't escaped my notice," said Purdey, "and that's exactly why I'm chauffeuring you out into the middle of nowhere on such a miserable night - to help take down the enemy." She turned to Gambit, her smile fading when she saw his sombre look. "You've not yet told me your plan..."

"There is no plan. But Purdey, I'm going in alone," Gambit quietly announced, cutting her off when she made to protest. "I can't look out for the both of us."

"You know I'm more than capable of looking out for myself!" Purdey's tone of voice made Gambit flinch.

"I know, believe me, I know! But I also know you're going to be keeping an eye on me in my current sorry state." He gestured vaguely at his head and torso. "Which means you won't be fully looking out for yourself, so then I'll be worrying about you worrying about me. It's too much of a distraction – for the both of us!" He put a hand on her arm and she let him keep it there. "If anything happened to you, Purdey...I'd have to live with the knowledge that I was responsible. I can't take that risk." He said it so matter of factly.

"I think that knock on the head might have done some serious damage, Mike Gambit." Purdey said, being careful to keep her tone light. "You can't expect me to just wait here and hope you return in one piece. Especially since you're not exactly in one piece to begin with." Silence told her that he was expecting just that. She pulled the car over into a small clearing. They were about half a mile from the manor house in which Zephyr controlled his operations. "I'd feel better if I knew what we're up against...It would at least give me something to aim the bloodhounds at if you leave me stranded here...Gambit?" She stopped smiling. Her passenger was giving her a very strange look, which she could just about make out in the dull moonlight. "Gambit, what is it?"

"Bloodhounds." Gambit muttered to himself, puzzling Purdey further. "Or some really big dogs. Purdey, you've done it." He pushed open his door, lighting the car up with the interior light as he pulled himself up and out of his seat.

"Done what?" Not one to be left behind, Purdey threw her own door open and hopped out of the car, bumping into Gambit as he crossed to her side. He grunted and gave a curt apology before creeping into the woods, pausing a few feet away only to wave her over and then continue towards the enemy line.

"What happened to you storming the grounds in disguise?" Purdey hissed, fighting her way through the brambles to get to Gambit's side.

"I realised something," he replied, tossing the hat away into the undergrowth. "I've far more experience as a back door man." He produced the key that he'd confiscated from the intruder at Purdey's flat.

"That I can well believe," Purdey muttered. She soon caught up and together they approached a wall, at least eight feet high. There was no doubt it was the perimeter fence of the manor house, as there were no other residences in that neck of the woods. "They're awfully keen to keep people out, aren't they?" Purdey mused, laying a hand on the sturdy wall.

"Or keep something in," Gambit replied, cryptically. "Where are you going?" Purdey was heading along the wall in the opposite direction to him, looking up at it and seemingly lost in her own thoughts.

"I'll meet you inside, once I've gotten over this." she said.

"But I've got the key to the gate," Gambit could only just make out his partner in the dull light but he could swear that she was grinning inanely at him.

"Where's the fun in that? Besides, you wouldn't want me watching your back and not my own, would you?" Ah, touché. The lady had a point. Fortunately, Gambit didn't much fancy joining her this time, so Purdey needn't have worried.

"Be careful." he warned, stalking off on his own. Just thinking about vaulting over the wall was making his ribs ache. Still, Purdey wouldn't let something as boring as bricks and mortar beat her.

It didn't take long to find the huge rear entrance but as Gambit quietly approached the large iron gates he had an overwhelming feeling that he wasn't alone. He stood still, his eyes taking in every detail in the dark, wooded area around him. He was almost ready to pass off the feeling simply as paranoia when he spotted a glowing dog-end a few feet from his right shoe.

A crack of twigs behind him made his stomach drop. He ducked forwards, intending to tuck himself into a roll and grab his gun as the owner of the discarded cigarette came up behind him, but the assailant was too quick and managed to stick his boot into Gambit's midsection as the agent turned.

All the injured man could do in return was drop to the floor with a wheeze. Without hesitating, his looming attacker confiscated his gun and easily dragged him to his feet by his collar. So much for sneaking up on the enemy...

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

"Mr Gambit! What a pleasant surprise." The big man's tone belied the fact that he was holding a gun against him. He flicked a key in the lock to the gate without taking his eyes off Gambit, leaving the agent with no other option than staying put. "We all thought you were dead."

"Full of surprises, me," Gambit replied, allowing himself to be pushed through the gate and led through a humongous overgrown garden. "Brinkley, isn't it?"

"Blimey, you even remembered my name – another surprise considering the amount of memory lax they fed you this evening."

Gambit was glad Brinkley was unable to see the shock that covered his features in the dark. The memory loss he had connected to his concussion was actually all down to a drug. The knowledge would have been welcome under different circumstances.

As the two of them approached the house, Gambit stopped short at the sight of his battered, white Land Rover sitting comfortably on the driveway.

"Just something we acquired from down the road." Brinkley said. "A bit bloody, but that's the way we like it. Damned fine piece of engineering, too good to waste."

"Yes, I've one just like it. Identical, actually." Gambit said. Brinkley gave a short bark of laughter that made the agent flinch involuntarily.

They entered the house and came face to face with the other two members of the gang. The odds were quickly stacking up against Gambit, and he didn't even have a plan yet. He turned and made a quick mental note of the approximate distances from doors and windows to where he was being ushered in the middle of a large sitting room. A pair of French doors leading onto the patio outside seemed to be the best way to go for a speedy exit. He hoped they were as flimsy as they looked because his injured right hand side was beginning to throb incessantly as though it were actually aware of his potential plan.

"Him!" Gambit turned his gaze to the man who was sounded extremely unhappy to see him. He recognised the owner of the voice immediately as Zephyr, the elusive extortionist who had been giving the Ministry such a hard time of late, kidnapping important children as a business venture. "Mr Gambit, you really do seem to have nine lives. Unfortunately for you, we have several ways of getting rid of stray cats."

"I've always though of myself more of a tiger, actually." Gambit said, tucking his aching right arm tightly against his side. He placed his hand in his pocket, hoping Zephyr would take it as an act of nonchalance. _Or a cheetah. _"Not that I've got anything against pus-"

"Brinkley, get rid of him – promptly and permanently this time." Zephyr waved a hand at Gambit as though the action itself would make the agent disappear. Clearly he was in no mood for cheeky banter and Gambit could hazard a guess as to why from the various papers strewn about on the small dining table.

"Ah, not long now I suppose," Gambit made a show of glancing at his watch without actually taking his eyes off Zephyr. "Only an hour or so before your target arrives. You should get a move on if you're going to catch them – terrible traffic this time of night."

"Whatever makes you think we'll be there personally, Mr Gambit." Zephyr moved and leaned against the fireplace, picking up an A4 blown-up photograph and studying it with the sort of fondness usually associated with family holiday snaps. He glanced up at Gambit. "The trouble with you department types is you're always thinking laterally. We live in an age where the impossible is possible. You couldn't even begin to understand."

"Ah, but of course you mean the killer dogs you plan to use to kidnap the President's daughter." Gambit was bluffing like a professional, and Zephyr clearly took the bait. The Frenchman hesitated slightly, which was enough to tell Gambit he was definitely on the right track. He ploughed on, hoping he wouldn't go too far and blow it. "Well, what with their heightened sense of smell and all that. They only need that one sensory trigger. Trained to find drugs, weapons...people. Of course, they'd have no trouble snatching a little girl." Despite shuddering inwardly, Gambit forced what he hoped was a confident smile onto his lips. "Oh, we're fully prepared." He pushed further, almost enjoying the fact that he could still rattle the old Frenchman. "Trained dog handlers are already standing by." A blatant lie he hoped would push greater doubts over the job into his adversary's mind.

Zephyr turned his back on Gambit and stoked the fire, clearly annoyed by the development. It gave Gambit enough time to see that the photograph was of one of the other agents on security duty, something only someone inside the department had knowledge of.

"You're bluffing." Zephyr said. He sounded unconvinced, but Gambit was not paying him much attention. His eyes were on Brinkley, who had moved towards an internal door to investigate a noise from beyond. With the big man out of the way, the only barrier to Gambit's escape was the third man close beside him.

To take advantage of what could be his only opportunity for a swift exit, he shifted on his feet, ever so slowly bringing himself to face the third man, all the while trying to ignore the fact that his arm had gone uncomfortably numb again. He was trying to disguise a grimace as he flexed his right hand when the door burst open and a flustered, young woman entered.

She approached Zephyr, a frown clouding her pretty features. "Ray should be back by now, I don't know what could have hap-" Her eyes fell on Gambit and she gasped, "Mike!"

"Ginny." He must have acknowledged her with a look of disapproval because she seemed ready to break down in tears as she hesitantly crossed to his side of the large room.

"Oh, Mike, it's not what you think." Ginny said, closing the gap between them and inadvertently blocking Brinkley's view of him. It was almost better than the previous opportunity he missed to escape, now that there was no weapon aimed at his mid-section.

Without further delay, Gambit expertly chopped the third man in the throat, darting towards the French doors before he even hit the floor, gasping for air. He heard Brinkley shout at Ginny, who responded with a cry as a gunshot echoed in the chaos. Something bit at Gambit's right arm as he threw himself through the softwood framed doors and he didn't have to guess twice what it was. He stumbled over some inconveniently placed patio furniture as his eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness but was soon bounding as fast as his legs would carry him into the wooded area.

He mentally cursed himself for being shocked by the fact that Ginny was the department leak. She had not long joined the organisation, and Gambit had been at the forefront of making her feel welcome. To think of the privy information she had betrayed to the enemy made his blood run cold. He would never understand why the lure of money could turn even the most innocent to crime. A million quid wouldn't tempt him to betray the department, or anyone they were protecting. No sum of money imaginable would entice the thought of betraying Steed and Purdey.

Speaking of Purdey, where the heck had she gotten to?

He heard a howl from behind him, making him all the more aware that he needed to get out of the grounds – right now. He didn't want to wait and find out how much of his bluff was true. Killer dogs had no appeal to the injured man trying to outrun them!

Purdey crept through the overgrown garden, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. It wasn't hard considering the only light was coming from the run down old manor house at least a hundred yards away. She stopped, listening out for any sign of her partner. The only noise to catch her attention was the sound of the brook nearby feeding into the already swollen river that ran parallel with the road outside the walled garden.

No sign of the missing agent.

Purdey followed the wall round to the main entrance, frowning as she came across Gambit's Range Rover. Stranger and stranger. Zephyr's men clearly weren't interested in it for it's aesthetics. It was crumpled, riddled with bullet holes and had an interior covered in blood. Not exactly something for the showroom or forecourt. Modern art perhaps?

A car pulled into the driveway so Purdey ducked behind the out of commission 4x4. She sneaked a peak over the bonnet as the car driver got out and crunched her way over the shingled driveway to the house.

Even in the dark, Purdey recognised the young woman as the ministry's newest employee. She couldn't remember the name, but the girl's waist length auburn hair was as good as any name tag. Especially since Gambit had been fixated on talking about that luscious hair for at least an hour just the other week. The ins and outs of the conversation were long forgotten, but the pang of jealousy that had surprised Purdey at the time would not go away.

So Little Miss Long-Hair was the department leak. It would explain why Gambit had fled the manor house earlier in the evening. She must have been who he recognised.

Purdey swiftly made her way towards some stables, keeping to the shadows as much as possible and being careful to keep an eye on the front door to the house. No sense in getting caught snooping around. She poked her head in the stables, aware that there could be someone waiting inside. Satisfied that nobody was lurking in the shadows, she approached the nearest stall. A soft growl that quickly turned into a full blown bark was enough to make her turn on her heel. A gunshot following the sound of glass breaking emanating from the rear of the house sent a chill down her spine.

She retraced her steps with a renewed purpose, and caught sight of Gambit running into the woods. It seemed like a good enough cue to leave the premises. As she entered the densely wooded area, she glanced over her shoulder and watched as Zephyr made his way over to the stables.

Whatever was being contained had now been let loose to track down the escapee. Taking another second to gather crucial intelligence, Purdey gasped as two huge dog-shaped silhouettes bound into the garden after her partner. A sinking realisation that Gambit hadn't been joking about Bloodhounds settled in her stomach as she then weaved through the woods after him...


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Better late than never - part five for your viewing pleasure...enjoy!**

Gambit sprinted as hard as his ailing body combined with the unpredictable terrain would allow him to. Thick brush whipped at his legs, threatening to trip him along with sporadically positioned, gnarled tree roots underfoot. His earlier concussion had him weaving more unsteadily away from the house than he would have liked. His ribs protested with each heaved breath and although moving his shoulder was agony, it was absolutely unavoidable in the essence of speed.

The desire to give up and put a stop to the punishment he was dealing out to his aching body was frustratingly high and growing with each laboured stride. However, hearing pheasants squawking not too far behind, he knew something large was on his tail and stopping to catch his breath didn't seem like a tempting option after all. So much for the rest and relaxation part of the evening. He hadn't even been quick enough to avoid being shot. Any other day, he would have evaded the bullet. He'd have probably been quick enough to make a smart retort before gracefully sliding out through the doors, rather than crashing ungracefully through the damn things. Sloppiness did not become him. He hissed a curse as a low lying branch brushed roughly against the wound, as though it were mocking his own self-loathing.

Still running, Gambit tore off a section of his suit jacket, trying desperately not to slow his pace. He had no chance of shaking off the canine posse unless he could plug the throbbing hole in his arm. The bullet had gone straight through, but the bleeding refused to stop.

Using the already sodden material, he wiped off the majority of blood that had gradually trickled down his arm, cursing as it slicked against his palm. Flesh wound or not, he couldn't afford to be sending out a fresh blood trail for his pursuers to follow. Unless...unless he could use it to his advantage somehow. Knowing he had precious little time to spare, Gambit fumbled through his inside pocket for his hip flask, mentally thanking both Brinkley for not thoroughly searching him, and Purdey for concocting the dreadful drink in the first place.

He'd slowed his pace, but he dared not stop, not even for a second. Even as he unscrewed the lid, he could feel the alcohol burning his nostrils. Gambit held onto hope that the ridiculously potent stench would mask the smell of his blood, temporarily at least. With any luck, he thought it would at least make his pursuers eyes water long enough to slow them down. Although not what it was originally intended for, Purdey wouldn't mind that it was being used as a potential weapon. He only needed to get past the gate, wherever it was. Hopefully, Purdey was already there warming up the car. Hopefully...

With a groan he couldn't repress, he poured the vile concoction into the seared flesh on his upper arm before swiftly tying a makeshift tourniquet from his shirtsleeve. If Steed had reservations over his appearance before, he was going to have a heart attack over this. Not only dishevelled, muddy, bloody and sweaty, he was now totally sleeveless on one side.

Picking out a particularly dense bush, Gambit tossed in the baited jacket sleeve he'd used to mop up the worst of the blood and prayed it would give him the extra few minutes he so desperately needed to find the gate. If the dogs were on his scent, leading them into attacking the thick bush would buy him precious seconds in his effort to seek out the gate and escape.

Momentarily disorientated, the running man slowed to a jog, only to check his position under the stars, and was caught by surprise by a hand that appeared on his shoulder, pushing him forward. He stumbled a couple of steps before rounding on his assailant. "Purdey!" The whispered exclamation spoke volumes of the relief he felt in bumping into an ally. Truth be told, he'd rather her by his side than warming the car up. Plus, he knew he couldn't have taken on Brinkley or Zephyr. He wasn't even sure he could take on Ginny at that particular moment.

"Come on, Gambit!" Purdey hissed, getting his feet moving once more, "this is no place to stop."

The welcome words of encouragement, intended to drive him on with renewed vigour, failed to give him a second wind and it took him a second or two to get back into a jogging rhythm. "How long have you been shadowing me?" He chanced another look up at the sky and altered his course.

"Long enough to see the terrible shape you're in," Purdey replied. She still had a hand on his shoulder, pushing the injured agent. She couldn't tell if her partner was intentionally slowing for her, or for the pain and fatigue. Through his soaked jacket, she could feel him trembling. Although, whether it was through adrenaline or exhaustion, she simply could not tell. Purdey wished she could see her partner's face through the darkness to at least give her an idea of the state he was in. "You've been weaving around all over the place," she gently scolded.

"Well, you could have warned me," Gambit grumbled, sounding every bit as spent as he felt. Running through an unkempt garden with sodden clothes and a catalogue of niggling injuries was not conductive to good conversation.

"I had thought about it," Purdey said, tongue firmly in cheek. "But then you would have been worrying about me keeping up." To her delight, Gambit choked back a laugh; trust Purdey to continue to use his twisted logic against him. Something told him he'd soon regret trying to leave her behind, especially when she realised he'd been shot. He'd never hear the end of it.

Pushing though a thicket of brambles, Gambit lead them into a clearing, finally spying the heavily shadowed wall lit by moonlight. For a sickening moment, he imagined they had taken a wrong turn and the gate to freedom was the all the way over the other side of the huge garden. His luck certainly hadn't been very forthcoming lately. Pessimism was definitely building and Gambit barely resisted the urge to swear, colourfully and at full volume.

Fortunately, the moment of doubt passed as the clouds thinned and revealed their exit thirty yards or so away to the left. Gambit made a mental note to never again doubt his navigational skills. They just might have saved his life, yet again.

Rustling nearby spurred the agents on as fast as their legs would carry them. It wouldn't do now to get mauled before they could warn the ministry what exactly they were up against. No way Steed was aware of what Zephyr had in store for his top security team.

They managed to reach the gates, Gambit pulled them open, relieved that Brinkley had not bothered to lock them. He'd obviously intimidated the henchman enough during his initial undercover operation for him to forgo undertaking such a menial task. Glancing back, the agent saw a monstrous pair of silhouettes bounding their way through the clearing. He quickly ushered Purdey through and pulled the heavy wooden gate to behind them with seconds to spare.

Gambit shuddered, hearing their pursuers scratching at the strong wood. It still didn't feel safe. He took the briefest of moments to listen to the beasts trapped in the garden, his ear pressed against the gate. To his surprise, they didn't bark. They only growled softly, sensing him the other side of the gate. They weren't even the best of the pack and yet they weren't out of breath. No doubt Zephyr had taken the strongest, fastest dogs with him, leaving whatever dogs were left to hunt the two agents. Maybe a little luck had been on their side then. A more powerful dog certainly would have cut them down before they could escape. Ultimately, Zephyr had underestimated Gambit, and that would be his downfall. Even if Gambit was having a bit of trouble believing it at that precise second in time.

"Gambit?" Purdey called back to him through the woods, eager to get out of the area while they still had their limbs relatively intact. After a moments pause, Gambit took after her, trying to forget the size of the shadows that had been chasing them. If they could run that far without even getting breathless, then they would have no trouble making their own way into London. Zephyr was right, they didn't even need to be at the scene of the crime. The dogs could be dropped anywhere within a certain perimeter and would almost certainly get through the Department's tight security. While he and Purdey had fled through the woods to their car, who knew how far towards the capital the gang had gotten with their own rabid army...

The race to London was officially under way.

**TBC...**


End file.
